Sunday, September 21, 2014

As a professional awesome guy, one of the things I spend much of my energy on is trying to make sure I never find myself without some form of entertainment in front of me coming out of TVs, speakers, musical instruments, and even real life faces sometimes, in a desperate hope that I'll never be forced to face pure silence and have to listen to the voices in my head.

If you had the voices in my head you would do the same. Common statements from these voices tend to be either violently dark, enticing self destructive behavior or down right baffling, things such as:

- Why won't these lights turn green, I know push that kid in front of a truck, that'll keep me entertained a few more seconds.

- Apparently teenagers in Europe sometimes soak a tampon in vodka and stick it up their butt to get drunk cheap, I wonder if I started doing that if it'd help me consume less calories and therefore lose weight, maybe I'll try it tonight, but first I want to eat two large pizzas by myself. And

- If badgers are so hard to convince to crowd into conglomerates the size of meteorites for us to magically rope-pull into ostentatious missionary operations then what hope do Chinese miners have of imagining financial grants big enough to bid for a helper robot consolations?

Obviously these are all thoughts I don't want to have, at least not more than three or four times an hour, and so I wish to avoid them. Not that I'd ever actually act on any of these thoughts, I'm not a weirdo, well I don't mind making a badger pile from time to time, but then who doesn't?

This past Saturday night, in order to entertain away the voices, and just be entertained in general, I decided to do something I don't do anywhere near often enough, and that's go to see a play.

Here's a common conversation I'll have with myself:

'Man, when I go to plays I tend to enjoy myself, plus I want to act in more plays, maybe I should, you know, go see more plays' I'll say.

'Dude, you totally should see more plays, when you do you tend to enjoy it, and you want to act in more plays, you should totally go see more plays' I'll reply.

'Man, you're right, I tend to enjoy plays when I go see them and I want to act in more plays, it would be good to go see more plays' I'll add.

'Dude, you enjoy plays, you want to act in plays, you should see more plays!' I'll retort.

'Man, like plays, act in plays, see plays' I'll continue

'Dude, like, act, see - plays' I'll snap back.

'Man, l, a, c, p' I'll demand

'Dude, P' I'll conclude.

And then I'll spend so much time congratulating myself on my brilliant ability to both invent and decipher a unique and imaginative short hand language system with myself, so much so that before I know it I've filled like hours just talking to myself in my new brilliant language, that by the time I'm done I don't even remember what that original 'P' stood for way back when, I mean, 'people'? 'personnel'?? 'periodical'??? It could be ANYTHING! Even a non-P word like 'File' or 'Friendship' or 'Philanthropist'!

Then I'll be like 'I DONT FUCKING REMEMBER', what did that fucking P stand for, for phucks sake?' Then I'll copy out the entire P section of the dictionary hoping to jog my memory, even the words in the P section which don't start with P. Before getting fucking frustrated and taking it out by stacking badgers, only to then get frustrated that I can never make a conglomerate the size of a meteorite and then eat two large pizzas and have a shame nap.

Suddenly, against all odds, I then discover for some reason I haven't seen more plays, and I'll say to myself 'I should see more plays', and the cycle continues. The really frustrating thing is just how hard it is to source badgers every day.

Well no more. Two nights ago I thought to myself 'when I see plays I tend to enjoy them, I want to act in more plays maybe I should see more plays' and instead of going on a journey towards a shame nap, I fucked around on the internet for a couple of hours, and somehow ended up buying tickets to a play the following night.

It was at the New Theatre in Newtown Sydney, a place I've been meaning to go for ages, as part of the Sydney Fringe, an event I've been promising to attend for ages, and it was called 'Amanda' which is like a name and shit, I think.

And you know what? I enjoyed it, immensely in fact. I want to act in more plays. I think I'm gonna go check out more plays! No shame nap for me tonight! Hell Yeah!

Please note: In the making of this blog no kids were actually pushed in front of trucks.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Apparently some game called minecraft just sold to Microsoft
for 2.5 billion dollars. I have no idea what this game is, and I don’t care to
know. What I care about is that this lovely exchange of finance and gaming has
shown me that making 2.5 billion dollars really easy.

Here is how it’s done.

A.Invent a game of some sort.

C.Sell this game to Microsoft for 2.5 billion.

Now all you have to do is figure out what B is, that can’t
be too hard it’s like, it’s like the second letter in the alphabet for Christ’s
sake, and you will have made 2.5 billion dollars - easily.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

I bought a Coke Zero today. Yeah that’s right. I bought a Coke
Zero; they’re like Coke, but with zero sugar, and like Diet Coke but yet
different. So I bought one. It’s by no means the first time for me, and far
from the last. I'm not proud of it, nope, I have no interest in feeling pride
because of it, there's nothing to boast about here, and nor is there anything
to applaud myself for.

And before you ask, yes, I do applaud myself for things,
regularly to be honest, for all manner of reasons. Like say I've been to the
movies and enjoyed the movie I chose, well Hell Yeah I'll applaud myself, why?
Well for my excellent ability to work my way through the various methods of
deciphering whether a movie will be something I would enjoy, by reading
reviews, judging reviewers, watching previews, questioning whether the preview
editor is good at his or her job, asking friends who have seen the movie what
they think, going through my records of previous opinions they have given me of
movies they have seen, balanced against my spreadsheets of how I ended up
enjoying the movie in contrast and comparison to their opinions, looking at the
Venn Diagrams I've made rating each friend and each film genre and where we
typically overlap and disagree, looking at casting, judging casting, going to
cinemas and watching people coming out of theaters, then drawing detailed
sketches of facial expressions, before conducting extensive psychological
studies into how a wide range of people from all walks of life, race, creed,
sexuality, corners of the globe, age and height interpret the moods of the faces
I've drawn, and then asking for detailed stories of their personal experiences
with movies, checking that information against my spreadsheets, checking the
length of the film, and judging the length. So yeah sure, if I've put the right
amount of work in and then estimated that I’m likely to give a movie say a
seven out of ten, and then I see that movie and at the conclusion of the movie
I find myself thinking 'I'd probably give that like a like a six, nah, make it
a seven' - then Hell Yeah I'll applaud myself. That’s applause I deserve.

Or like if I go pee and get most of it in the bowl I'll applaud
myself.

You have to recognize your hard earned amazing achievements
people, or how else will you be motivated to reproduce them?

But no I wasn't applauding this achievement, the purchase of the
Coke Zero that is. Not this time. Then again nor was I feeling shame. I have no
interest in discrediting myself because of it; I'm doubt free, feeling no
trepidation and have absolutely no interest in beating myself up over it.

And before you ask, yes, I do beat myself up over things,
regularly, for all sorts of reasons. Like say I've been to the train station,
and even though I made it to the station I ended up missing my train, then Hell
Yeah I’ll beat myself up, why? Well because like because I probably missed that
train even though I'd taken every measure not to miss it, like reading the
schedule, and memorizing the arrival time, and like setting my watch only after
looking up the official, official time as released by the Greenwich mean time
officiating committee, and done some detailed investigation into whether the
authority is well respected, trusted and admired, and called them up and asked
how moral is at the office, whether anyone had been acting unusual or suspicious,
if anyone had been dating someone in the office and broken up with them
recently, were any employees 'celebrating' unhappy birthday milestones, or any
other type of situation that could motivate someone in the office to ease their
discomfort by messing with the official, official time as released to Sweden,
to relay to the Swiss, and pass on via passenger pigeon to the Internet so we
all know it, and by going to the station for a few days in a row before my
train trip and keeping an eye on arrivals and departures and checking them
against the schedule so as to have a truthful representation of current
standards into keeping with the schedule, and like asked a few thousand
passengers, give or take, whether the trains feel smooth, and do the tracks seem
strong and are there any kids mulling around looking like they may be planning
some sort of dastardly rambunctiousness like pulling the emergency break even
though, at the present, at least as far as they know, there is no emergency,
which is not the correct time to pull the emergency lever. If I still ended up
missing my train, because say I forgot how long the walk to the station was,
Hell Yeah I'll give myself a beating. That’s a beating that’s justified.

Or like if I see a creature on the ground and say 'hey look a
grasshopper' and someone else says 'actually I think that's a locust'. Then
yeah, sure, I'll beat myself up hard.

You have to punish yourself for your epic failures that
negatively impact your existence people, or else how are you going to learn to
avoid them?

So no I wasn't beating myself up over this purchase, of the Coke
Zero that is. I was feeling neither pride nor shame, neither pleasure nor pain,
neither satisfaction nor um, grain, no, fame, no, blame!! (Nailed it) - you
know why? Because that’s not what Coke Zeros are for, I don’t believe. I mean I
haven’t done much research into it yet. Well, I have taken surveillance footage
of people leaving convenience stores, super markets, general stores, and at
entertainment events like sports, amusement parks and country fairs, and I have
compiled some detailed spread sheets, pie charts, and quantum physics, but I
still haven’t made a single diagram of what seems like would be a common use of
a Coke Zero, which I would then be able to use when interviewing people about
what they plan on doing with their Coke Zeros upon purchasing them, while then
questioning them on their use as compared the diagrams I had prepared, and then
making spreadsheets of the results, so that I could compare them, but still,
based on the information I have gathered up till now, no, I don’t believe Coke
Zeros are manufactured with a hope of inspiring there would be purchasers to
either applaud themselves, nor beat themselves up over.

I believe, in fact, that they are intended to be poured inside a
hole in the consumers face. I’m guessing either the mouth or popping out the
left eyeball and going in there. And you know what, in making my final decision
with today’s purchased Coke Zero, I might avoid normal information gathering,
and just wing it.

The assignment came in
swift, hard and flawlessly explained. The assigner knew her stuff that is for
damn sure. She knew what she wanted from me, and how she wanted it to be
achieved. She was clear, unwavering and well spoken. She knew who I was, what I
was capable of, and how she wanted me to pull it off. Her instructions were
crisp, staunch, and poetically brushed into a beautiful picture of intricate
unambiguousness.

I took the assignment
in my stride. I was awake, receptive and understanding. I knew what she required
from me that’s for damn sure. I knew what was feathering her tickly spots and
how she wanted me to blow them the hell away. I understood her needs, where
they were born, and the satisfaction that was awaiting being sparkled and
glistened. I received her instructions in my ears, swept them up into my brain
and needed no imagination to spin them into an honest and scrupulously vibrant
game plan on how it needed to be accomplished triumphantly.

So yeah, you could say
it, I went into the break room and I poured the fucking shit out of that glass
of water for her.

I just wish I didn’t
pick the glass with the chip in it.

The ambulance officer
knew what his assignment was that’s for damn sure - stop her lip pouring out
blood, for the love of god, stop it, this is gross, I think I’m gonna puke.

What smell should I invent next?

About Me

Hi I'm David Tieck, an author/comedian/artist from Sydney, Australia. This is my blog. I use it as an outlet for my peculiar mind. Come on in and feel free to add to the lovely absurdity in anyway that you are so inspired.